


From Ship to Sea

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Below The Shore [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pirates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Merlin is an average boy working on a merchant ship, until he's forced to watch his best friend die in front of him, captured by pirates, and is miraculously saved by one of the Sea God's Children, who might have more to do with him than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Ship to Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, few quick notes about this; 
> 
> There are allusions to what could've been **non-con**. Nothing actually takes place, but it is _vaguely_ hinted that's what _would've_ happened had there been no interruptions. But there is no attempted non-con, and there is no actual non-con. Just vaguely mentioned. I wanted to bring it up just in case. 
> 
> Some nasty language, but it's minor. Also minor character deaths that take place on-screen and off, mostly faceless characters with no explicit details. 
> 
> Onto better things; I've always liked fics that have a sailing flare to it, Pirates, Sea Gods, etc, etc. It's always been an interesting read for me, so I tried one of my own. I actually had a lot of fun with it, to be honest, so I do hope that it sounds alright. 
> 
> This story is part of a much larger verse I've planned, but it also stands alone. If and when I do write more, this story will be referenced back to on a regular basis, most likely. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

The ship rocks in a gentle ebb and flow, the weight of the wood creaking with each slap of water against its boards. The sea air does little for the sickness he feels deep in his stomach, bile rising in his throat each time he so much as blinks.

Merlin shifts in his seated position against the mast, chain cuffs clanking around his wrists, wet rope chaffing his skin. His arms are rubbed red and raw by this point, thanks to his persistent hours of struggling against his bonds. Blood stains his shirt, a dry spot contrasting against the faded blue tunic he currently wears. Tears begin to spring into his eyes at the memory of why it's there, but he forces them away, blinking furiously. He pants out a shuddering breath, then takes a gulp of the salty breeze, swallowing down his vomit once more. 

_Breathe, Merlin,_ he thinks to himself. _Will didn't die so you could suffocate yourself, and follow him to Davy Jones' locker._

Above anything, he needs to survive. Stuck with pirates or no, he would get out of this alive.

Maybe?

Merlin's skin feels clammy as he remembers exactly why he's on board to begin with. The lecherous looks and smug gazes as the pirate captain—Cenred King—took a bit of a fancy to him after murdering his best friend right in front of him. He had fully expected to die alongside him, quite honestly, but the pirate clearly had other plans for him. Cenred had called him “pretty”, Merlin recalls with disdain. The very thought of being forced underneath that despicable man makes drowning seem a lot more pleasant. 

If he weren't scared to make noise—and yes, he is a little scared—he would laugh. Bitterly and broken, mind, but laugh all the same. Only a week ago, he had been excited to board his first ship—only a small merchant ship, however—to finally be old enough to work on the open sea, like his father. Up until now, the sea had always been a sense of comfort to him, made him feel closer to his father, like he rolled in sync with the waves. Now, it does nothing to calm the nerves that refuse to be bitten down. 

The sun disappears under a haze of dark clouds, and in seconds, the sea begins to pick up, winds blowing stronger though his hair.

_Strange,_ he muses, _There were no clouds, earlier._

Boots clack on the wooden deck, and Merlin swallows down his fear, and instead replaces it with anger. He'd earlier trained his ears—Cenred's boots sounded different from the rest of the crew. Merlin wills his heart to stay steady. He's not going to back down, he won't, he won't—

Merlin looks head on and meets the pirate's eyes, who grins at him with yellowing teeth at his pitiful attempt to look brave. He kneels down in front of him, gripping him roughly by the chin. 

_He's paying awful little mind to the storm that's no doubt coming,_ Merlin thinks with slight hesitation. _It looks like it'll be bad._

“Hello, pet,” Cenred leers, taunting and mocking him. “I think it's time we have a little... _chat_ , don't you agree?” 

Biting his tongue, Merlin says nothing, fighting against all of his self-preservation instincts to respond to him, to keep himself from getting hurt or beaten. 

Cenred digs his grubby fingers into his jaw, and Merlin winces as the pirate seethes, “You'll speak when spoken to, you little _whore._ ” 

“Go to hell!” Merlin hisses in retaliation, then, deciding he has nothing to lose, works up a glob of saliva and spits it in his face, feeling amazingly triumphant when it hits Cenred in the eye. 

The feeling is, as to be expected, short lived. Cenred grabs him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him upwards, which strains his body against the rope. Surprised, he cries out, the bonds digging into his arms, never mind the way the chain cuffs lodge themselves into the skin of his wrists. 

“Damn _brat!_ ” Cenred snarls, then tosses him back down, slamming Merlin's head rather roughly against the pole. He withdraws his scabbard from his belt, pointing it at him with venom dripping from his voice. “Do you want to die? Just like that wretched little friend of yours?”

The mention of Will sends a burst of rage through him. He spits out, dangerously, “Leave Will out of this!” 

Cenred smirks, obviously knowing he's struck a nerve. “He did seem awful protective of you. Were you a little slut for him, too? Did you writhe and moan underneath him, wrapping those perfect lips around his--” 

A sharp clap of thunder bursts overhead, as rain begins to pour down, seemingly from nowhere. The clouds are darker now, nearly black with only hints of the former grey still lingering. The waves pick up, ricocheting back and forth, slamming full force into the hull. 

Cenred's words abruptly halt, and he lashes out loudly, “Where the hell did this storm come from?” 

He can't explain it, but Merlin can _feel_ something. It feels heavy in his chest, making his heart pick up speed—almost erratic now. He takes in another gulp of air to try and calm himself, but to no avail. He tries to will it into slowing down, but it only seems to make it beat faster. 

Cenred begins barking out orders, completely ignoring Merlin entirely, now. Merlin is grateful to have the attention off of him, but his chest _aches_ —like something is trying to break free, to claw its way out of him. Water sprays onto the deck, soaking him even more than before, another blast of thunder roaring above them. 

Something deep inside of Merlin calls to him, and for some reason, he just knows that this isn't a normal storm. Someone...someone is _causing_ this. 

Merlin vividly remembers the stories his father told him when he was younger—how the Sea God and his children _allowed_ the mortals to sail their waters, so long as they were fair and just, and paid tribute to them as thanks. Most people he's met believe all of the stories are rubbish, but Balinor drilled it into his mind that Merlin needed to respect them, and in doing so, if he were ever in danger, they would aid him. 

The waves hurdle into the hull once more, tipping the ship to the side. Several men on deck scream as they're tossed overboard into the raging waters below. 

The Sea God—or one of his children—are _killing_ them. No, he can't, he can't let them--

Pirates or no pirates, they're still _people_. Merlin can't let them be killed this way. He tries not to think too hard about what would've occurred to him if the storm hadn't interrupted. The thought still makes him feel sick to his stomach, but Merlin, damn his conscience, is still a good person, and can't let people be ruthlessly killed by angry Gods. 

Merlin wiggles against the sopping rope, trying vainly to weaken it enough so he could slip free. He barks out a curse when he can't seem to budge, still wincing with each cry, scream, and order he hears around him, people rushing all around the deck. 

“Let me,” a voice whispers to him over the pounding of the rain. Merlin glances over in surprise to see a young boy, about his age, maybe younger, pulling out a knife from his belt. He saws at the rope hurriedly, fingers struggling so badly to keep a grip on the handle that Merlin fears he may slice his hand off. 

“Daegal, right?” Merlin asks, vaguely recalling Cenred shouting at him when he was first taken aboard. At his nod, Merlin continues, “Why are you helping me?” 

Daegal offers a half-hearted shrug, finally managing to slice through the rope with all fingers still intact. “Because it's the right thing to do. And that storm didn't start until Cenred starting messing with you. If anyone can stop it, or...or _them,_ ” he hesitates, and Merlin slightly wonders if he too believes in the Gods. He slips the knife back into the belt. “...It's you. I'm sorry, I don't have the cuff keys though--” 

“It's okay, and thank you,” Merlin says, then takes a deep breath, his ribcage humming from the thudding heartbeat. “But I don't know if I _can_ stop this.” 

Merlin stands, and taking caution not to fall from the slick boards, he rushes to the side of the ship, where the salty mists still spray his face. He's already dripping wet, but he closes his eyes anyway, and calls out, hopefully, “You have to stop!” 

He feels mad, really, trying to communicate with people that might not even exist. The weight on his chest grows heavier inside of him. Still, Merlin chokes out, “Please! You can't kill them!” 

“You're going to get _yourself_ killed, boy!” a voice hollers from behind him. He doesn't know who it is that's screaming, but even if he did, he wouldn't care. He ignores them. 

The ship begins to tilt again, and Merlin grips the railing for dear life. “I know you can hear me! Whatever these men have done—they don't deserve this! They do deserve punishment, I agree with that, trust me! But what goes around, well, it comes around! This isn't justice, it's _murder!_ I'm begging you, please stop!” 

His chest constricts, as if he's losing air, choking on the act of breathing itself. He looks to the sky, blinking away the onslaught of rain as it falls into his eyes. It doesn't even look remotely like it's going to stop, clouds still as black as night. 

Merlin wants to scream even louder, but for all that it's worth, he knows it's fruitless. It's ridiculous to think that any godly being would ever listen to him. Perhaps this is _his_ punishment, for getting Will killed, for even daring to question the judgment of the Sea Gods--

A particularly large wave crashes onto the deck, causing the ship to angle once more to the side. Merlin's slick fingers finally lose their grip, and he screams as he plunges into the icy waters below him. 

The darkened sea thrashes around him, pulling him deeper and deeper still. Though his hands are still bound, he tries to pull himself to the surface, kicking his feet to try elevate himself, but it results in little success. The further he manages to raise himself, the further the sea drags him down. Merlin's vision blurs, and he can hear his heart beating in his ears again, his lungs begging for air. 

_Looks like I'll be seeing you sooner than expected, Will,_ Merlin thinks miserably, ignoring how his chest is practically on the verge of collapsing. Seriously, this has never happened to him before--

Merlin feels his consciousness slipping, and his eyes begin to drift shut.

_Not such a bad way to die, I suppose. Like father, like son, huh Dad?_ His mind supplies, almost thoughtfully. 

Just as he shuts his eyes, something grips him by the arms, pulling him closer. He opens his mouth in surprise, starting to yell, but the noise he could've made is met with water pouring into his throat. His eyes shoot open and he begins to thrash, panic seizing him--

Merlin's movement and muted screeches are silenced when a pair of lips press against his own. It's gentle and warm, completely unlike the sea around him. It's like air is being thrust into his lungs, but it's sweet and wonderful and he needs— _he needs_ \--

_“Hush,”_ someone murmurs against his lips, soft and coaxing. _“Rest, love. I've got you, I've got you.”_

Merlin's line of vision comes into focus long enough for him to glimpse—even in the darkness—wisps of bright hair, blond perhaps, and the deepest blue eyes he's ever seen. A smile curls onto the beautiful creature's (man's?) lips, and the same words wash over him again, reverberating softly, comforting and loving.

And as Merlin's eyes slip shut, sleep claiming him, the weight on his chest feels as though it's been lifted.

The half has found his destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
